‘Yes, madame,’ both Bochette and I said in unison.
With that, Chanel got up from the sofa and stubbed the cigarette out in the glass ashtray. ‘Will I see you for supper?’ she asked Kranz.
‘Certainly.’
Chanel wafted out of the room, leaving a trail of her perfume scent in the air.
The following morning, I was standing outside room 304 at two minutes to seven. I smoothed down my apron and patted my hair to make sure it was all in place, before knocking on the door.
‘Enter!’ came the voice from inside. I stepped into the apartment and through to the living area where Chanel was sitting at her writing desk, with several letters, a writing pad, and a pen in front of her. ‘Ah, Nathalie.’ She gave me another of her appraising looks. ‘Glad that Bochette freed you up. She can be quite tiresome with her rules and regulations, but I suppose that’s what keeps everything afloat and why she’s trusted.’
I just nodded, not sure if Chanel wanted to get into a conversation or not. My training had told me not to comment unless directly asked a question. A lot of our guests simply spoke at us rather than to us.
Chanel got up from her writing table and plucked a cigarette from her beautifully engraved silver cigarette case. She cast her gaze around. I realised she was looking for a lighter and produced one from my pocket, flicked it and held the flame towards her.
She leaned towards the flame, drawing on her cigarette before pulling away. ‘Do you smoke?’
‘No, madame. I just keep it with me.’
She nodded. ‘Not just a pretty face.’ Chanel wandered over to the window. ‘You’d better get on with your cleaning duties.’
‘Oui, madame.Where would you like me to start?’
‘The bedroom, then the bathroom. I have clothes I need laundered. I’m going out for dinner this evening, so I need to choose something to wear. Once you’ve tidied my room, lay all my evening dresses out on the bed.’
I made sure I didn’t rush with tidying and cleaning, but I could hardly contain my excitement when I opened the wardrobe and my eyes were greeted with dress after dress of pure luxury, elegance, and class. I took a moment to enjoy the sight before me and, taking a deep breath, I slowly ran my hand across the fabrics.
‘You like what you see?’
I spun around to see Chanel standing in the doorway. ‘Sorry, I was just taking a moment to admire them. They are beautiful,’ I said.
‘Hurry up and get them out and we can have a proper look at them. You can help me choose which one to wear tonight.’
I was sure my eyes must have bulged so much they nearly fell out of my head. Chanel gave a small smile of amusement and gestured towards the wardrobe.
‘What sort of party are you going to?’ I gazed at the dresses hanging in the wardrobe.
‘It’s a dinner with Kranz. Just the two of us, and then we are going to the theatre afterwards,’ replied Chanel.
‘So, perhaps a long evening gown.’ I ran my hand across the top of the hangers, inspecting the dresses, taking out first a long black gown, then a silver gown, another black one followed by a peacock blue. I laid them out on the bed, side by side, inspecting each one.
‘You have good taste,’ said Chanel, nodding towards the clothes on her bed. ‘So, with your expert eye, you tell me which one you think is the most expensive.’
I looked up at Chanel and I could see that amusement in her eyes again. I took a closer look at the dresses, examining the stitching, which was all perfect.
‘Well, the ones with the jewels would appear more expensive, but they are not necessarily real.’ I looked at Chanel to gauge her response, hoping I hadn’t insulted her, but she gave a nod of approval.
‘I’m impressed.’
I carried on with my analysis. ‘However, looking at the fabrics used, I can see that the one with the pearls, or maybe not real pearls, has not been made with the same quality fabric as the plain black dress with the scooped back and the thin velvet belt around the middle.’ I picked up the black dress.
‘This fabric is not the typical satin and silk that you buy in the everyday department store,’ I continued. ‘In fact, I’d go as far as to say this fabric came from abroad, possibly the Middle East. The understated look and the subtlety of the expense, to me, indicates that this is the most expensive dress.’
Chanel clapped her hands. ‘Bravo!’ The compliment didn’t come with quite as much enthusiasm as one might receive at an award ceremony, but as it was coming from Coco Chanel herself I was going to take it as a huge compliment, far better than any compliment or gratitude I had received to date for my work with a needle. ‘Now we know which is the most expensive one. My next question is, which one should I wear?’
‘It depends what you want to achieve by the end of the evening.’ Her compliment had made me a little bolder than I might otherwise have been. Again there was the amusement in her eyes and the corners of her mouth twitched.
Chanel took a draw on her cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke.
